An Island Kitchen
Desolation and me (Part I)
Contributed by Kerry Sorrenti
Monday, October 6 2008
The mere thought of spending three weeks boating with kitty and husband and at least eight other boats should send any Virgo into hiding; especially one like me who has honed the skills of harrumphing and general orneriness to medal-winning perfection. Now, throw in a dash of agoraphobia, claustrophobia, and kymophobia (fear of waves) and you can just imagine the type of vacation that lay ahead for Jordan.
The weeks of organizing, another Virgo skill that I excel at, kept me preoccupied, so that as the day of departure became imminent, I hadn’t really focused on getting myself out of this mess. Despite belated attempts to feign illness, throw tantrums, and an aborted (and ridiculous) endeavour to trip myself, hoping for a minor sprained ankle, kitty and I found ourselves headed off to Jedediah Island on one of the windiest days we’d had all summer.
Thus our first lesson learned from this trip: a cat (dog; gerbil; gold fish) should not be kept in the bow of the boat on the bed in rough seas. Keep the door shut and put the animal on the floor closest to the stern, preferably on a favourite blankie. You will have less mess and a less hysterical pet on arrival. This same method may be useful for terrified pet owners!
The official yacht club cruise was scheduled for 14 days but several boats had decided to add on an additional week. It wasn’t as though we were ten boats glued to the gunwale. The fleet sort of morphed over the days; this kept the dynamics interesting.
We spent two days on Jedediah; a favourite for many boaters because of its sense of history and an almost spiritual calm. We’d all read Jedediah Days by Mary Palmer, last owner of the island, which added a poignancy to exploring the island; picking apples from the orchard and peering through broken windows. A usually chatty group can suddenly become silent and contemplative; each wondering what it would have been like to live in solitude in this beautiful place. Later on our trip, I was picking up Jordan’s jacket and felt two lumps in the pocket; there were two Jedediah apples, still crispy and full of memories .
I would have loved another day here, but our next stop was Lund.
Despite being off season, the docks were still relatively full. We managed to get the last two spots on the docks, but any other boats would have to raft to us.
We were just happy to have clean washrooms (I could write a whole book on great and not-so-great washroom facilities I have known), a good grocery store, Nancy’s amazing bakery and Internet! After a bumpy night - not a great spot in a northwest wind - we headed to Grace Harbour in Malaspina Inlet.
We arrived to find the other boats vacant (Pirates?), so we began stern tying without assistance. I finally cried for help when I got caught up in a tree and my dinghy wedged on a rock. How I hate stern tying, let me count the ways!
We would spend three nights at Grace. As in many of these isolated coves, there is an old homestead, falling into disrepair, unfortunately with help of some vandals. Isn’t it funny that when you write your name on a rock or carve it into a tree someone later will think of it as vandalism!
We took our dinghies over to the Laughing Oyster restaurant which is further up Malaspina inlet, although actually only a few kilometres from Lund by road. We had a spectacular view of the inlet from our patio table, and despite some oddities such as the absence of raw oysters on the menu, we all had good meals.
We were curious about the frequent use of a fish called “cobbler” which no one had ever heard of and our server could only tell us that it was a type of freshwater catfish. I did a bit of research when I got home and found that it is a bit of a controversial fish, as it is farmed mainly in Vietnam and China, undermining the American catfish farming industry and there is some debate as to whether it is safe to eat. Further research assured me that it is closely regulated and used because it is an inexpensive fish but has much the same texture as sole or cod. It is also known as pangas, basa, tra, or China sole, although I’m still not clear on why we were in Desolation Sound eating farmed catfish from Vietnam? (I could be totally talking out of the back of my head here, so if I have offended anyone, I’m sorry.)
The next few days would find us off to Refuge Cove for showers and provisioning, and then to Melanie Cove, where you were likely to spy someone in their cockpit reading The Curve of Time, or the biographical follow-up, Following the Curve of Time. Like many of us, the history of Desolation Sound is wrapped up in books we have read, making it so much more a personal journey. We were at full fleet size in Melanie: ten.
The next day, we were off to Roscoe Bay on West Redonda. It is popular for the easily reached Black Lake; a fresh water lake great for kayaking and swimming. There may have even been some nude swimming going on that day!
Roscoe will go down in our club history as the night we were shushed! A late-comer to our merry cove arrived just around Happy Hour and he took exception to the 19 people from our eight boats (there were only 12 total in the entire harbour) having a fun time on Sounder. It wasn’t even six o’clock, for heaven’s sake! He quickly roared over to ask us to keep it down because we were annoying everyone else. I wanted to tell him that there really wasn’t anyone else because we were all here, but of course all the snappy comebacks came to me later that night.
I also celebrated my 55th in Roscoe with a chocolate cake that Jordan barbecued. It wasn’t half bad; certainly not as bad as the year at the cabin when our oven wasn’t working and I tried to broil a cake. Now that was ugly!
We would be off to Cortes next day, with some of the boats beginning to head home.
I’ll finish this story next week; I wanted to write something this week because you must all be thinking: My, Kerry certainly takes long vacations!
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